


Crawling Forward, Falling Back

by poisontaster



Category: Black Donnellys
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-22
Updated: 2007-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy needs somebody who will just…listen and do what he says and, pretty much, that's always Kevin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crawling Forward, Falling Back

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to estrella30 & mona1347 for whipping this into shape. Written for txtequilanights. Set after 1.05: Lies.

Even in a two bedroom flat like theirs, with your ma and your brothers and your brothers' stuff all over every available surface, some things are sacrosanct.

Like, say, the bathroom.

Or. They are if you remember to latch the lock. Or sometimes if you put both feet against the far wall and bear down against the door with both shoulders 'cause, ha ha, Jimmy just woke up and he's really gotta take a piss. The point is, a man's bathroom is like his castle. Or something.

What? Read it in a book somewhere, swear to God.

Anyway. Jimmy's off at the bar or off with his girl or wherever and Seanie's passed out on his latest dose of Percocet and Ma sleeps like the dead at the best of times and Kevin doesn't know where the fuck Tommy is, but Tommy told him to stay home and keep an eye out and that's what he's done and now Kevin's thinking he's _earned_ a little time to himself, by God.

And him and Miss April are settling down to just that when somebody's sticking their pocket knife through the gap and tipping back the latch ('cause they all know that trick, you know, in case of _emergencies_ ) and then Tommy's crowding into the small space that Kevin's finally—finally—staked out as his own for just a few fuckin' moments and…

"Really, Tommy, what the fuck, man, what the fuck?"

Kevin hops up and he ain't embarrassed, 'cause everybody fuckin' knows what boys do in bathrooms and it's not like Tommy's not the one who practically showed him what it was for and all, but there are limits and Kevin ain't in the mood.

But Tommy's crowding in anyway, puffing like he just ran here from Downtown and getting all up into Kevin's space and scuffling until Kevin's all turned around, pushed up against the sink with Tommy shoving him until the porcelain bites into his thighs.

"Goddamn it, Tommy, _what_?"

"Put your hands on the sink, Kev."

"Tommy, what—" Tommy shoves him again. "Sean and Ma are gonna wake up," he tries again, but he knows it's a lie, a lowdown dirty lie and already something's uncurling in his stomach, sweet-sour and aching. 

"Put your hands on the goddamned sink."

His hands already _are_ on the goddamned sink; Kevin's fingers curl around the porcelain tightly, anticipating. He's trying to see Tommy in the mirror, but Tommy's snugged up so tight behind him that all he can really see is the hard line of Tommy's mouth and the occasional flash of his eyes. And then Tommy's hands are snaking around his waist, tugging at his loosened fly and Kevin's not watching the mirror no more, he's watching Tommy. Watching Tommy's hands as they peel his pants apart and slide down inside his shorts. 

Against his ass, he feels Tommy, hard as anything, just riding the cleft of his ass through his pants.

"Tommy?" he asks again, and this time it comes out unsure 'cause they hardly ever do this and every time, Kevin's never quite sure what to think.

"S'all right, Kev. Just… Keep your hands on the sink and keep looking in t'mirror, okay?" And it's still an order, because that's how Tommy is, but underneath it, there's something else too. That little bit of something that keeps him coming back to Kevin like this, for this.

"Yeah, Tommy, okay…" But Tommy's already pulling his cock out of his shorts, hard and full and heavy. And then Tommy's jacking him, slow and easy and _familiar_. Like they do this all the time.

Kevin's breath sucks in and he's torn between listening to (obeying) Tommy and watching his face change and break with every _goodjesusfuck_ stroke of Tommy's gifted-ass fingers and watching his dick slide in and out of that grip. Hard, so fucking hard and red like it's been brushed with blood.

"Jus'…Just do what I say, Kev. All right?"

Kevin's fingers tighten on the sink, his breath whimpers out. He figures he'd probably be embarrassed under other circumstances, but you gotta forgive a man a few things when he's getting his Johnson waxed. 'Specially when it's Tommy doing the waxing. Kevin settles for nodding his head and letting his dick do his talking for him.

Tommy bends his forehead into the curve of Kevin's neck like it was meant to go there, grinding against the bone; in the mirror, Kevin sees his brother's lips moving rapid-fire like when they're praying, but he can't hear the words over the rushing in his ears as Tommy picks up that _twist-curl-thumb_ action. Tommy's other hand presses into Kevin's stomach—mostly empty and growling—holding him against his brother, letting Tommy rut against his ass over and over again.

They ain't never done that, exactly; Kevin's not entirely sure how he feels about it except right now, when it feels pretty fine and he wonders if he could just coax his pants and shorts a little lower, talk Tommy into letting his shorts down too, so there's nothing but skin there between them.

Kevin bites his lip— _hard_ , 'cause the last thing he wants is for Sean or Ma to wake up and interrupt—and lets Tommy do what he wants, lets Tommy jerk him fast and rough, hurtling him towards the mother of all orgasms, 'cause nobody does this like Tommy. Nobody ever has.

Truth is Kevin doesn't know why Tommy comes to him like this sometimes. It's not like they fuckin' talk about it.

Or. Maybe that isn't quite true. Tommy comes to Kevin, does this to—with—Kevin because Kevin will. 'Cause Tommy needs somebody who will just…listen and do what he says and, pretty much, that's always Kevin. 

Kevin doesn't mind.

(and maybe that's part of it too)

Kevin grunts and he feels one of his nails splinter when he comes, shooting so hard it splashes the tile under the mirror. His head drops on his neck all limp and he watches Tommy stroke the last of his come out of him, dribbling milky over Tommy's ink-stained fingers. Kevin groans and gives another weak twitch. 

And then they're standing, both of them panting like they done run the Boston Marathon and Kevin's dick going soft in Tommy's hand.

"I can't," Tommy's whispering against the top of Kevin's spine, finally loud enough to hear. His eyelashes flutter against the skin, ticklish as bug's wings. "I can't, I can't, I fucking _can't_ …"

He lets Kevin go and sinks down onto the toilet, chest heaving, eyes closed and his hands opening and closing on nothing.

And yeah, Kevin would beat the shit out of any motherfucker that's gonna tell him he's a cocksucker, but it's not the same. Sucking Tommy's cock, sucking your _brother_ …hell, that's practically like masturbation and _everybody_ does that. 'Sides, it's not often that Tommy _needs_ anything from one of them, not often that he'll ask.

And really, s'not much he wouldn't do for Tommy anyhow. So it's nothing for Kevin to slip down to his knees and take Tommy in his mouth, hard and bitter, and to let Tommy wind his hands in Kevin's hair and fuck his mouth. 

The noises Tommy makes are too much like sobs. His cock fucks desperate and unkind through Kevin's lips, down his throat until Kevin's kinda chokin' on it, slobber running down his chin. But it's for Tommy, it's all for Tommy and so he doesn't say nothing and he doesn't fight. Just lets Tommy go until his lips are numb and Tommy's emptying himself in thick bursts that seem to sear the back of Kevin's mouth.

They don't talk about it then, either. Don't even look at each other much as they wash up and wash off. Kevin brushes his teeth while Tommy sits on the toilet some more, looking into space. Kevin can almost hear the gears of Tommy's brain whirring, but he knows Tommy won't tell him nothing. Not now, probably not later. 

Kevin's okay with that. Tommy gets what he needs and that's enough.


End file.
